


This Is Why

by rightonthelimit



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Blind!Harry, M/M, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-17
Updated: 2012-08-17
Packaged: 2017-11-12 08:57:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,446
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/489080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rightonthelimit/pseuds/rightonthelimit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry was blind, and he could still see Tom in ways others could not.</p>
            </blockquote>





	This Is Why

**A/N: Please do not repost, recreate or translate.**

**This Is Why**

‘You’re blind,’ Tom said rather bluntly and rudely, watching as Harry's expression morphed from relaxed to confused. The boy’s green eyes were unfocused and they darted around until Harry finally lowered them unseeingly, as if coming to terms with the fact that he indeed could not see.   
  
Tom had known of Harry's blindness, of course he had, Tom had known it since the moment he had met Harry. It was a little hard to  _not_ notice it.

They both were in their fifth year at Hogwarts. Tom was a Slytherin and Harry was a Gryffindor, and they were forced to work together on a Defense Against The Dark Arts project. They were supposed to be polar opposites but Tom didn’t feel hate for this boy at all, nor did he pity Harry. He had never really cared much for petty rivalrous actions and he refused to start just because his Housemates were pathetic. He was at Hogwarts to learn everything he could and to become a wizard, not to act like a stupid child and screw things up for himself.  
  
So then why was that the first thing he said to Harry the moment they were alone?   
  
Tom did not know. He supposed to build up a wall between the two of them, to ensure that Tom himself knew of their differences and that Harry knew that he wasn't superior to Tom. They were already far too similar to Tom's own liking.  
  
He knew that Harry kept to himself most of the time just the way Tom did and that he sometimes got lost in the hallways of Hogwarts after class. Tom had often guided Harry back to his common room because it was his job as a Prefect to ensure that every student was in bed in time, after all.

They had always walked in silence together, feeling neither hateful nor awkward against what people expected. Silence had always been comfortable between the two of them so it was safe to say that whatever Harry's Housemates had against Slytherins, Harry didn't share it with them.  
  
This was just the first time that Tom acknowledged that Harry was actually blind.

‘Yes,’ Harry finally acknowledged. ‘I've been blind since I was little.’

Tom stared at him for a long time. He had never met someone who was blind before and it had never really interested him up until now. He had plans, he had ideas that were more important than studying a blind boy's behavior. But now that Tom was allowing himself to look, to  _really_ look he found that Harry didn’t look submissive and he acted like a normal boy. It was strange because Tom felt so distanced from Harry. Like they still weren't quite equal.   
  
The way Harry behaved himself made it seem like having sight did not enrich your life, but simply made it different.

Harry sighed and ran a hand through his hair, looking flustered. He couldn’t read, not these books Tom had picked out for them anyway. They hadn’t used the spell that made books speak the words written in them just yet.

‘Stop staring.’

Tom paused, resting his chin in his hands with a small frown on his face.

‘How could you tell I was looking at you?’

Harry shrugged. ‘Just a feeling.’

Tom stared at Harry for a little longer before he settled in front of him. Harry’s eyebrows drew together and he moved his head a little to the side. His ears twitched and he was probably straining them to try to hear what Tom was doing. Tom just kept on staring.

Harry wasn’t obnoxious like his fellow Gryffindors and he wasn’t kissing Tom’s ass in the hopes of getting on Tom's good side. He wasn’t fearing Tom either. He was just… Sitting there, Tom supposed. Soaking up Tom’s presence, noises and his own emotions and senses, like a sponge.

‘Do you miss it?’ Tom asked. He tried to envision a life in darkness, a life that solely existed out of smells and noises and feelings, and it seemed terrifying. Tom had always feared death. In a way he could only regard a life without sight as half a life because wasn’t death only darkness? Eternal oblivion?

Harry shrugged and looked far too nonchalant for his own good. ‘I grew up like this. I can barely remember what it’s like to see. I only know what it’s like to hear and feel and taste and smell…’

‘Hmm,’ Tom hummed, entranced. He stared at Harry for a little longer, at how Harry was caressing the pages of the book in front of him. Harry was attractive, that much Tom knew. He wasn’t very tall (he barely reached Tom’s shoulders) and he had pale skin from being indoors so much, and his hair was black. Harry's eyes were truly what made him so special. They were expressive, seemingly holding no other purpose than conveying Harry’s most intimate, genuine emotions to those willing to pay attention. Harry didn’t even seem to notice what his green eyes did to other people, what they revealed.

It was truly a pity that they couldn't reveal everything.   
  
Tom wished he could use Legillimency on Harry, but he knew that couldn’t be. He couldn’t look Harry in the eye when Harry’s eyes were unfocused all the time. No, when it came to trying to learn to understand Harry, Tom had to solely rely on Harry's facial expressions and his body language. 

Harry was calmer than most teens. Tom figured that that was because he didn’t want to draw any attention. It was likely that Harry was getting sick of everyone treating him like he was something vulnerable. He’d rather not be seen at all than to be seen as a fragile boy. It was only in his Gryffindor nature to be prideful after all.

‘I know this is going to sound creepy,’ Harry started hesitantly, making Tom snap out of his thoughts, ‘but… Can I touch your face?’

Tom looked at him in surprise. Such an odd request.   
  
‘What for?’ he asked reluctantly. Harry shrugged and flashed him a crooked smile.

‘Just helps me create a mental image of who I’m talking to.’   
  
Tom hummed and took Harry’s hands in his own, amused. However subtle Harry was, Tom knew that Harry liked him. He could see it in the way he sometimes strained his ears to hear whenever Tom was talking, he noticed it in the soft smile Harry wore on his face when Tom gripped him by the arm at night to guide him to his common room. Sometimes Tom thought that Harry got lost on purpose just so Tom could bring him back. They didn’t have any other reason to be in each other's presence.

Besides that, Harry’s heartbeat sped up, meaning he had just lied. He just wanted to touch Tom and Tom didn't mind pretending he bought the lie.

Harry was interesting and Tom did like learning new things.

‘Then touch me.’

Tom guided Harry’s hands to his cheeks and Harry’s fingertips retracted at first like he was afraid to touch Tom freely, but then he grew more confident. His fingers slid over Tom’s skin, just feeling the texture of it underneath his pads, tracing Tom’s cheekbones. Tom closed his eyes and then Harry’s touch spread over his eyelids, brushing over his eyelashes. Harry’s thumbs smoothed over Tom’s eyebrows and then traced his straight nose, over his cupid’s bow… On his lips.

Tom opened his eyes again and saw that Harry had a small smile on his own lips.

‘Harry -’

‘Ssh, I’m studying you,’ Harry whispered. Tom shut his mouth again and Harry continued touching him.

* * *

They shared their first kiss at the Yule ball, sitting on a bench near the Black Lake, huddled up together to try to keep each other warm. Harry smiled when Tom’s lips touched his for the first time and he nuzzled Tom’s neck with a satisfied sigh when they separated, his hands curled in the fabric of Tom’s shirt. It was probably the innocence of the kiss that got to Tom the most. He wasn’t a virgin but he liked how new all of this felt, how different it was. How different  _Harry_ was. Some may say that Harry lacked things, but Tom would say that Harry had plenty of other assets to make up to that. Harry could see things in Tom which Tom hadn't even known of.  
  
Harry's left hand was freezing cold - his right hand was warm from where Tom had been holding it when he had guided Harry to this place. Tom supposed that he was silly. Harry couldn't see how beautiful the Black Lake was right now, nor could he see the moonlight reflected upon it. Tom still treated Harry like someone who could see.   
  
He thought to himself that he should've found them a private place in the castle. All Harry could feel was the cold, probably. Maybe he could hear the distant sound of music coming from the castle, the crickets.   
  
Tom shivered when Harry placed his hands on his cheeks and slid one luke warm hand into Tom's hair, tugging at his strands as if trying to figure out how long his hair was while his ice cold hand slid into the unbuttoned collar of Tom's shirt, trailing over the small hint of collarbone that was exposed to the open air. Tom could feel his nipples stiffen and he wondered to himself why he even cared. His skin warmed up Harry's and Tom still liked the view quite well himself.  
  
Tom was enjoying himself and that was all that mattered because essentially, Harry was just happy to be with Tom and that was enough.

‘Harry -’

‘Ssh, I’m seeing you,’ Harry murmured. Tom said no more and Harry pressed a shy kiss against the corner of Tom’s mouth again, just because he could.

* * *

They broke up three months later after a lot of fighting about stupid things and saying mean things they both wound up regretting. It was their ridiculous pride that maybe had gotten in the way, or maybe it was pressure from their Housemates who, after they found out about Tom and Harry, kept trying to find new ways to steal their happiness from them.

They got back together less than a week later.

Harry clung tightly to Tom’s shirt and held him close, silent tears rolling over his cheeks, his bottom lip caught between his teeth. They were standing in an empty corridor, it was night. They both should be in bed, get some sleep, think things through. Tom just didn't know how he could sleep when Harry was like this. Tom had gotten into this way too far and he didn't know how to stop. He thought he'd been able to manage but his every thought had evolved around Harry. 

‘I thought I’d never see you again,’ Harry murmured and Tom frowned to himself because Harry had never seen him in the first place. He sometimes hated it when Harry used that expression because it reminded him of how Harry was missing out on so much, and how Tom couldn’t fix it.  
  
It was that day that Tom learned that Harry acted strong but deep down was terrified of losing the comfort he had found in Tom. Tom was his anchor, the one who guided him, not because Harry needed him to but because Harry wanted him to. He's been miserable this past week. His shirts had constantly been buttoned up all wrong and he'd been clumsier than usual.

‘I’m not going to leave you,’ Tom found himself mumbling, clutching his blind boy to his chest and embracing him. He thought about the unfairness of it all and how strange it was to be around Harry who didn’t want him for his good looks – because Harry couldn’t see him anyway – or his parent’s money or popularity, but just for his personality. Harry was the only person who cared about  _Tom_ and although Tom was changing and growing stronger by the day, Harry was what kept him genuine to himself. Harry kept Tom from rushing into things. 'I'm here. I'm not going anywhere and you belong with me. I promise to stick around.'

It was the only promise Tom kept in his life.

* * *

They made love for the first time the weekend that followed in the Room of Requirement. They were both grinning and panting in the aftermath, their eyes shut, lying side by side on a bed that was way too big for them. Their pinkies were linked almost shyly.

‘Wow,’ Harry finally whispered. Tom licked his lips and turned his head to face him. Harry was facing the ceiling. Tom had left the lights on even though he had pretended to have turned them off, having wanted to admire Harry’s naked body. The blind boy had a happy expression on his face and Tom thought that before he had met Harry he had never known the difference between being satisfied and genuinely happy. It was overwhelming.

‘Wow,’ Tom confirmed because even though he could come up with more clever things to say he didn’t feel like turning this into something poetic. It was beautiful by itself, to have found a way to make this good instead of just taking what he wanted and being done with it. Harry wasn’t his first sexual partner, but he was Tom’s first and probably last boyfriend and he wanted to be able to do this with Harry whenever and wherever they could. He loved being this close to him, being so in control and having Harry be so dependent of him.

Harry smiled and traced the inside of Tom’s wrist. He had some marks on his throat, on his hips, on his chest. Tom’s back was feeling sore from where Harry had been digging his nails into him. He didn’t regret a thing.

He’d have to heal Harry's bruises before anyone would start asking questions. Tom was going to keep his own marks and wear them like a trophy even if no one would be around to see. 

Tom pressed a soft kiss against Harry’s temple and then against his cheekbone. Harry reached up a hand and ran it through Tom’s disheveled hair. His heart was still racing, Tom could feel Harry’s pulse. Vulnerable.

Tom did that. The sense of power he felt was overwhelming and entirely new, but intoxicating all the same. He owned this boy. Mind, body and soul. Harry was his.

‘Harry, I-’

‘Ssh. I’m looking at you.’

Tom merely smiled and allowed Harry to touch him.

* * *

Tom got his first job at Borgin and Burkes when he turned 17, the year where his father kicked him out after finding out about his relationship with Harry. Tom's mother didn't even defend Tom. Merope was too in love with Tom's father to dare to defy him.  
  
Harry’s parents allowed Tom to stay with them during the Summer break but Tom was humiliated and angry and often left the house to be by himself. Harry knew by then that Tom losing his control wasn’t his fault. When Tom’s lips hungrily knocked into his own and when he roughly slid inside of Harry with a need that surpassed his desire for Harry it wasn’t Tom’s fault. When Tom yelled at Harry when they were alone and didn’t speak a word during dinner, it wasn’t Harry’s parents' fault.

It was no one’s fault.

* * *

Tom celebrated his eighteenth birthday in his own little apartment. He didn’t have any furniture just yet, nothing but an uncomfortable mattress and a cardboard box which he used as a makeshift table. Harry jokingly commented that he liked the color Tom had painted on the walls and Tom hadn’t been able to laugh. He had gone from having everything to having nothing. At least he now had his own place and wasn’t a charity case anymore.

Sometimes, in the dead of the night, he blamed Harry and knew that it wasn’t fair in the following morning. His body tensed when Harry wrapped his arms around him. Tom chewed on the inside of his cheek, knowing that if he would’ve broken up with Harry he would’ve been even unhappier right now. He had less than a year – only a couple of months – left at Hogwarts. He wanted to travel and discover sides of magic that no one ever had the guts to explore before, but Harry was holding him back. He was uncertain if that was a good or a bad thing.  
  
Tom had been changing lately. Had it been because he had recently created his first Horcrux, after spending a couple of years wondering to himself whether or not it would be a smart decision? Maybe. There was no telling and Tom certainly didn't regret it.

‘Harry, I think you should-’

‘Hush. I’m looking at you.’ He said nothing and allowed Harry to kiss him and push him down on his mattress, Horcruxes pushed to the back of his mind.

* * *

‘Because you changed, Tom! I can’t even look at you anymore!’

Harry snatched the first thing in his reach and chucked it at Tom’s head four years later. Tom sneered and gripped Harry’s wrists, shoving him straight into a wall.   
  
Every night’s been like this lately. Endless fighting and kicking and screaming until they both were sore and exhausted, trying to hurt each other in every possible way. Tom sometimes didn’t even know why he bothered anymore.

‘Of course you can’t, you’re fucking  _blind_ ,’ Tom hissed hatefully at Harry. There was hurt in Harry’s useless, sightless eyes for a moment. They held no other purpose but torment Tom, Tom was certain of it. Red flashed in his own eyes before he took a deep breath through his nose to calm himself. ‘You’re blind. You just can’t, Harry.’

Tom said those last words in a softer tone and he released Harry all at once. Harry stayed there, pushed up against the wall even though Tom’s body was no longer pushing him against it. It was like he was nailed to the floor. Frozen in place.

‘Why are you being so cold?’ Harry whispered finally. Tom sneered.

‘I have no idea what you’re talking about. I’m getting a drink, go to bed.’

He knew exactly what Harry was talking about. Tom had changed ever since he had decided to leave the country for a few months a few years ago. Harry had come with him, of course he had, but even Harry knew that they hadn’t left the country for just a vacation. Tom had done things that people wouldn’t even be smart enough to dream of and even if it had cost a high price, Tom didn’t regret it. He had grown obsessed with magic and power, wanting to ensure that they had a good future even if he forgot to care for the present in the process. If Harry was too blind to even see that, then that was his own problem.

They slept apart for the first time in years that night.

* * *

Tom woke up from the sunlight shining in his eyes. He scowled at his own stupidity for having forgotten to shut the blinds – Harry wouldn’t have been able to tell the difference. For all he knew there was nothing there to ensure their privacy.

Harry was holding his waist tightly in his sleep and Tom didn’t have the heart to pry his fingers away. He kissed Harry’s forehead and tried to coax him into awareness instead, knowing that Harry wasn’t a morning person either and that he'd be more of a hassle if Tom would roughly awaken him.

‘Harry, let go,’ he murmured. Harry’s grip on Tom’s waist grew slack seconds later and he simply rolled to lie on his side, his back presented to Tom.

He wasn’t looking at him.

* * *

Harry got lost two weeks later. He was terrified and didn’t know where he was or how he got there – he had ended up in Knockturn Alley and someone had knocked into him and had robbed him off his wallet. He had tried chasing the person but now he was in a place with sounds he didn’t recognize. Tom managed to track him down and picked him up, cancelling the rest of his appointments – now that Dumbledore had refused him a job as a teacher at Hogwarts he was working to become the Minister of Magic – to keep an eye on Harry. Harry simply went to bed and didn’t come downstairs anymore, not even for dinner.

Tom killed his own family later that day and robbed them of most prized posessions. He split his soul and was weakened when he came home again. All he did was head upstairs and press his lips against Harry's forehead in a kiss, one that he always executed automatically, and then he slid his newest Horcrux around Harry's finger without the male's consent.

When Tom lied down next to him in bed they didn’t even touch.

* * *

It was two days later when Tom came home to Harry curled up in his arm chair, feverish and asleep. His skin, slowly turning back to the pale shade it used to be at Hogwarts since he now had a hard time leaving the house when Tom wasn't around, was tinged a faint shade of pink and there was a thin sheen of sweat on his hot forehead. His breathing was raspy and Harry coughed every now and then, his shoulders wracked by the force of it.  
  
Tom put him to bed and then went through their cupboards to prepare potions for him almost automatically. Ironic how he went from killing a Muggle tramp for getting in his way to taking care of a 22 year old blind male. Sometimes Tom didn’t even know why he still bothered.

He made Harry take the potions and brought him a glass of water afterward to wash away the taste. Harry held Tom’s hand and thanked him, sick and delusional, but still so clever. Tom wondered to himself if Harry knew that Tom had killed with that hand before. He idly stroked his thumb over the ring on Harry’s finger, the one that Harry hadn’t taken off or even questioned. It was gold and had a black stone on it. A piece of Tom’s soul was inside of it. 

Tom said nothing and a worried little frown formed on Harry’s brow.

‘Talk to me. I’m listening,’ Harry whispered. It was the first time since they met that Harry asked him to talk.

So Tom did. Tom talked about how he felt angry all the time. Tom talked about the Ministry. He talked about their issues. When he was done Harry simply reached out and wrapped his arms around Tom. His shaking hands slid over Tom’s face and Tom closed his eyes almost automatically, letting Harry feel, no,  _see_ him. Tom's face hadn’t changed a lot. He had just lost a bit of weight after making three Horcruxes. His nights were dreamless now.

He fell asleep eventually. When Tom woke up, his entire body was pressed up against Harry’s sick one and he recalled why he tried again.

* * *

Tom stayed home the next day, and the upcoming week too. He hadn’t realized how much he had missed Harry being his best friend above all until they found themselves laughing at something stupid together.

Harry had been the one to teach him how to laugh so carelessly in the first place. What he had done remained a secret to Harry and for all Harry knew nothing had changed between them. In this moment they were just the Slytherin Prefect and the Gryffindor who used to make love in the Room of Requirements. Tom thought that it would be a good place to hide another Horcrux, if he were interested in making another.

He should try to convince Harry to make one.

Harry’s illness became worse until Tom finally decided to take him to St. Mungo’s. They said they couldn’t find the reason why Harry was like this. It was like something was eating away at Harry and as Tom sat there at Harry’s bedside, holding his hand and contemplating all the reasons why and how this could’ve happened, Harry’s fingers twitched in his own hand. He glanced down at the ring and tried to take it off. It wouldn’t budge from Harry’s finger even though he had lost weight and Tom realized what he had done to Harry.

* * *

‘Harry, you need to take off your ring.’ Harry shook his head and made a soft distressed noise. There was barely any color to his face at all and his lips were dry and chapped, dark rings under his eyes. Harry was delirious and got worse by each passing day. He was going to die if he kept this up.  
  
Tom scowled in frustration. ‘Why not?’

‘Because this is the only thing I have left of you that won’t change,’ Harry simply stated. He fell asleep before Tom could ask more. 

* * *

In a way Tom supposed that he was learning a lot from this. Apparently when the host became emotionally attached to one of Tom’s Horcruxes they’d slowly get possessed. The Horcrux would eat away at their life energy until nothing was left of them.

It was just that this was happening to the wrong person.

‘What do I have to do for you to take the ring off?’ Tom asked, his voice now desperate. He thought his Horcrux would be safe with Harry, the only person he ever had and ever will trust. He had never thought of the option that  _Harry_  wouldn’t be safe with the Horcrux.

Harry smiled drowsily.

‘Just come back to me,’ he murmured. Tom nodded, holding Harry’s hand, pressing it against his own forehead. Harry's skin was clammy but he didn't care. He had pushed Harry's hair from his face when Harry had been vomiting at home, before. This was nothing.

‘I’m right here. Take it off. Just take it off, Harry. Please.’  
  
Harry smiled softly but he still didn't do it. Tom contemplated the possibility of getting rid of the finger the ring was on, if it meant Harry would be okay after that. Tom could try to make it grow back. His knowledge of medical magic was pretty impressive after all. Surely he'd come up with something for lost limbs and how hard could growing back a shitty finger really be?  
  
'Mmm. I'm warm,' Harry mumbled. Tom scowled and he watched as Harry nuzzled his pillow.   
  
Tom wished Harry would just look at him already.

* * *

'You're going to die if you don't take the ring off,' Tom stated after Harry's parents left after visiting the boy. Harry merely shrugged.  
  
'Death is but a next adventure,' he murmured in a hoarse voice, reciting a man Tom hated. Tom's hands turned into angry fists and he turned around and left without a word, convinced he'd hurt Harry otherwise.

* * *

Their silences had never been awkward or tense before. Tom used to love them - he loved twirling a lock of Harry's hair around his finger while reading a good book and listening to Harry's breath evening out as he drifted off.  
  
Had Harry given up on his life, on  _them_ or was he trying to make a statement? Tom couldn't tell. It was driving him mad. He had never been this unstable before and he realized that loving Harry was like handling a double-edged knife - it strengthened Tom, but it could destroy him too. Tom was feeling the latter way too much for his liking.

Tom pressed another kiss against Harry's forehead. He closed his eyes and frowned to himself, his longfingered hand - his fingers were becoming bony and Tom was uncertain if he liked it - caressing the side of Harry's face. He was burning up and Tom murmured a soft incantation under his breath in an attempt to make Harry more comfortable. Harry shifted restlessly, his eyeballs rolling underneath his lids. He moaned weakly and Tom wished he didn't care.  
  
'Harry,' Tom whispered in his ear, 'forgive me.'  
  
Harry twisted in his sheets. He didn't even seem to be aware of Tom's presence anymore and Tom forced himself to straighten his back. He pulled his wand from his pocket and steeled his expression. It had to be done. Just once. Just this once would Tom allow himself to do this. It's been days since Harry had been fully conscious, there was no telling when he would let out his last breath.  
  
'Imperio,' he murmured, watching as Harry's body slowly grew lax. It had worked. Of course it had.   
  
'Harry, take off your ring.' He watched as Harry's body strained. He was fighting it. Tom scowled and tried to put more force into it, into his spell. Harry's fingers twitched but even in his weakened state he was still capable of resisting Tom.  
  
This wasn't possible. No one had ever resisted Tom - only one man had resisted Tom's charm, but no one had ever resisted Tom's Imperius curse. He was too strong to resist, too certain.  
  
'Harry, take off the goddamn ring!' Tom snapped. His eyes were bright red now, blazing while his hand tightened around his wand. His lips were pressed in a fine line.

Harry’s shaking hands finally reached up and did as told. Tom watched as Harry's hands instantly dropped back to his sides, palms facing up, ring in one of them. Tom snatched it from Harry's lax grip and instantly shoved it into his pocket. He felt the Horcrux' magic, felt how strong it was and how much it had fed off Harry's life energy. Tom stared at Harry's facial expression before he got up. He couldn't stand looking at Harry, not now, feeling strangely sick with himself. He had never expected himself to use magic against Harry and he never wanted to repeat this again.  
  
Harry regained his health within 24 hours.

* * *

They lied together in bed the night Harry got released from the hospital. Harry still had his cough but he was less feverish. He was practically glued to Tom’s side.

They spoke until their throats were sore and then fell silent all at once when Harry’s hand brushed over Tom’s cheek. Tom paused as if awaiting Harry’s plea for him to just let him feel him.

‘I missed you, Tom’ Harry said instead. Tom nodded and pressed a kiss against Harry’s fingers. He closed his red eyes and allowed Harry to roll on top of him, nipping at his lips. He wished Harry would call him by his new name, a name he had created to separate himself from his father, a name that was just as unique as Tom himself was. Harry had just shrugged and said that calling Tom by a different name would be like denying them of their past. Tom supposed he was right and he no longer asked Harry to. He supposed that this could be Tom's punishment for forcing Harry into taking the ring off. When Harry had woken up he had instantly asked for it.   
  
Tom said one of the nurses took it and sold it and that there was no way Tom could get it back, which was a blatant lie because Tom could achieve anything. Harry had looked heartbroken and Tom had promised Harry to get him a new, better ring. Harry simply said he didn't want another because no other ring could've made him feel as close to Tom as this particular ring had.   
  
Tom wisely kept from saying that that particular feature had been what made this ring so dangerous.  
  
Harry's thumbs smoothed over Tom's eyebrows and then the male pressed a kiss against Tom's forehead, mimicking what Tom had done to Harry so many times before. Tom closed his eyes and heard Harry inhale a deep breath as if to steady himself.

‘Harry, I thought that -’

‘Ssh. I’m watching over you.’

* * *

Never did Harry tell Tom why he always told him to be silent when he was touching Tom tenderly, in the way only Harry knew how to. It wasn’t until he studied Harry from afar while he was talking to a friend that Tom realized that words always followed Harry everywhere, and words were all that Harry could cling unto. Everyone could offer Harry words.

Only Tom could offer him touches and, essentially, paint pictures with them in Harry’s mind. In a way he had already given Harry his sight back.  
  
If only that was still one of Tom's main goals.


End file.
